Ar Vir
by Draygon-Icewing
Summary: Most decidedly AU. The Herald provides a glimpse into what could have been, but never was. And thank the Maker for small miracles that what could have happened, never did. (Will be rather episodic in nature.)
1. Chapter 1

Lathalam splashed cold water on her face from the basin, gasping like she had just been slapped. The morning was not getting off to a good start. She'd woken up feeling like a bear had just eaten her and crapped her out on a flaming cactus. Then she scared the piss out of some poor servant girl. And to top it all off, she still had no idea where the hell she was. Oh, sure she knew the name of the place; Haven, but beyond that she couldn't say.

And there was still a hole in the sky. She groaned as she looked out the window. "You're not helping at all." She stared down at the mark on her hand. She supposed the fact that it wasn't spitting like a startled snake was a good sign.

She looked to the staff leaning against the wall. She didn't like it at all. What the hell was she supposed to use it for? The last time she had that thing in her hand the only thing she could do was beat demons over the head with it until they burst into flames. Lathalam sighed and left it where it stood as she went to the door. The bright sun hit her harder than the cold water did. It felt like she hadn't seen it in days.

As her vision returned, she saw people lining the walkway, all staring at her. 'At least they haven't attacked me yet,' she thought as she closed the door behind her. Before she could be tempted to scurry back into her small hut, she started walking as fast as she could past the crowd.

"That's her! That's the Herald of Andraste!"

Lathalam had to stop short at that. The herald of what? She shook her head and just kept walking, nearly breaking out into a run to get away from the hushed whispers as she climbed the steps toward the chantry. She blew past the people waiting in front of the chantry's doors and nearly dove inside and closed them behind her, leaning on them to rest her head against the wood. The chantry itself was, thankfully, only occupied by a scant few people. Pushing herself off of the doors, she continued inside.

She could already hear heated voices coming from the far side, the heavy, wooden door doing little to muffle the words.

"She failed to seal the Breach, Seeker!"

Lathalam felt her shoulders slump at the Chancellor's words. Despite her better judgement, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Seize her!" Lathalam stopped short, noticing the two Templars on either side of the door. "I want her chained and prepared for the journey to Val Royaux!"

"Disregard that order and leave us." Lathalan had half expected to have to run, but the Templars did as the Seeker asked and left, leaving one very ruffled Chancellor.

Lathalam pinched the bridge of her nose as the two argued circles around each other until the Seeker, Cassandra, if her memory served, slammed a heavy looking book down on the table. "Do you know what this is," the Seeker asked. "It is a writ from the Divine re-establishing the Inquisition. We will close the Breach, find who is responsible and bring them to justice with or without the Chantry's help."

All she could remember was staring at the massive document bound in leather and steel and wonder what the hell she had gotten herself into.

* * *

><p>As soon as the Seeker and Spy Master had concluded their meeting, Lethalam had fled the chantry and found a quiet spot between two huts. She leaned against the wall and slid down until she sat in the snow, her head on her knees.<p>

"Hello."

She jumped at the greeting, her hands flying to her sides as a near-by bush froze solid, twigs breaking off in the light wind.

"Ir abelas." Lethalam looked toward her left where a bald, elven man stood with his palms up in a gesture of good will. "I did not mean to startle you."

She let out a breath and leaned her head back on the wood of the hut. "S'ok... Solas, was it?"

"It is." The older elf gracefully sat on the stone half-wall opposite her. "What circle did you train in?"

She tilted her head. "Circle?"

"I apologize, again. I assumed because you lacked the vallaslin that you studied at a circle. What clan to you hail from?"

She felt even more lost now than she had when Cassandra had threatened to kill her.

"Where did you receive training as a mage." The older elf nearly huffed in exasperation.

She made a rude noise at the back of her throat. "I am not a mage."

"Then clearly, that bush decided that now would be a good time to turn into an ice sculpture and tumble off into the sunset."

Lethalam rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Never did any of that until yesterday."

"Three days ago, actually. And you have never accidentally cast a spell? Never set something on fire during emotional distress." His incredulity was starting to show.

"I never thought they- I mean, I've never even seen a mage until now." She tried to hide her fidgeting by linking her hands under her knees.

Solas studied her face for a moment, narrowing his blue eyes until she visibly shrunk from him.

"I'm a museum curator!" She nearly shouted, her hands flinging out to her sides in frustration. "Have been for twenty years. I don't know anything about magic!"

The elder elf studied Lathalam for a moment, pursing his lips as he thought. "Then you need to be trained. If only to spare the shrubbery that remains from your clumsy wrath."

Lathalam groaned and fell to her side, hitting the snow with a muffled thump. "Fuck me."


	2. Chapter 2

"Focus your power. Think of it as a river flowing through you and you are able to divert it and limit it as you wish."

Lathalam rubbed her face with her hands, yawning wide.

Solas tilted his head at his unexpected student. "You possess great power, yet you pull back the moment it manifests. You need not fear magic so."

Lathalam clenched her fists in her mahogany hair, resisting the urge to scream. "But it shouldn't exist!"

Solas took a step back, the force behind her words like a fist hitting him in the chest.

"Magic's been nothing but myth since forever!" Lathalam had taken to pacing back and forth in the area behind Master Tagen's house that Solas had chosen to help her control her abilities. "All we have are bits and pieces of folklore and ruins with half translations and conjecture sprinkled on top for flavor."

She seemed completely unaware of of the alarm spreading over Solas' face.

"And these... things that happen when I am asleep! What the hell is going on in my head when it hits the pillow? When I fall asleep, I should just sleep. My mind conjuring up mish-mash nonsense and whispers shouldn't be happening!" Her pacing had sped up until she had worn a rut in the snow, the area around becoming more and more coated with ice. "I should be back in Hossburg, taking care of the artifacts under my care! There's probably streaks and fingerprints all over the golden mirrors lining the walls!

"Golden mirrors?"

"The... I can't even think of the word right now!" She stopped in her tracks, noticing for the first time that a three-foot wall of ice had formed around the area she was pacing in. "And why the hell am I in an ice box?"

Solas' concern was replaced with a nagging sense that he was looking at something that should not be. "You have never dreamed before? Never stepped into the fade to see ancient memories or interact with spirits?"

"We haven't dreamed in over a thousand years, Solas." Lethalam stared at one corner of the ice wall that had formed around her, running her hands through her short hair.

Solas pursed his lips, deciding that further questioning would only distress the Herald even more. Raising his hand, he conjured a flame that melted one side of the wall she had unintentionally built around herself. Instead of walking out, she continued to stare at her corner. She took her staff, twirled it expertly and brought it crashing down on the weakest part of the wall, shattering it like glass.

"So you have used a staff before."

"Not for magic, or what ever this is." Lethalam rolled her eyes and the staff whirled in her hands as she used it as a martial weapon. "Even without demons pouring out of every nook and cranny imaginable, we still have to know how to defend ourselves. Give me a pair of blades or a quarter-staff and I can do just fine. This I have no idea what to do with."

Solas watched as she trudged back toward Haven, his brows furrowed as he followed. He was determined to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>Solas closed the door to his small hut, the setting sun bathing everything in an orange blaze. The Herald was as obstinate as ever, seeming to resist every attempt at assisting her, especially when it came to magic. He set his staff in a corner and rekindled the blaze in the hearth with a flick of his wrist. He stripped out of his over shirt and hung it and his necklace on the chair as he settled into the rickety bed. He placed one arm behind his head and laid the other on his belly as he closed his eyes.<p>

Almost instantly, he found himself in the grey mists of the fade. If he wanted, he could stay here and rest his mind, but he had other plans. Reaching out, he felt for the Herald and recoiled almost instantly as though he had been bitten. He steeled himself and reached out again, this time ready for the backlash as he pulled himself into her dreams. Instantly he felt queasy.

Usually, when he entered the dreams of others, there was some semblance of the waking world represented. Here, nothing made sense. The sky was a warped shade of green, the kind one usually sees on a patient before the surgeon has to cut the limb off. The huts of Haven stood in a random semi circle around the Herald, some sunk half way into the ground, others standing on their sides or roofs. None were made of wood. Instead they were constructed of gristle and bone with sinew for shudders. The chantry looked as though it had erupted out of the ground, it's doors gaping like a giant, dagger toothed maw, the inside lit by intense flame.

In the middle of it all, sat the Herald on her knees. She wore a strange dress that seemed a more practical version of Orlesian fashion. The buttons were burnished bronze and the colors were deep and subdued. She held her head in her hands, great sobs racking her body.

"Lethalam," Solas called to the Herald, hoping a familiar face would calm her. When she lifted her head, her eyes widened, her gloved hands held out as though to keep him from coming any closer.

"No... not you again!" She lifted herself off of the ground and ran in the opposite direction. "You're not real! None of this is real!"

Solas stopped short, her words puzzling him. "Lethalam! Calm yourself," he called as she ran. "This is the Fade, it reacts to your fear." He watched as she kept running, not even pausing to look back. "Fenedhis," he cursed as he ran after her.

Lathalam ran for what felt like forever, branches and roots catching her clothing and tearing at it. She did not pause to look back and as she burst the perimeter of trees, she stopped short, her shoes skidding on the ground before she fell. Before her, a precipice loomed, a sheer cliff falling away into nothing but mist. For all she knew, there was no bottom.

As Solas stepped out of the trees, he slowed his pace. He did not want to startle her again. Yet when she heard his foot steps, she went stock still. Slowly she turned her head, her eyes connecting with something far over Solas' head. A harsh curse issued from his lips as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

As Lethalam made to get to her feet, a grey fog obscured her vision before being blown away, revealing Solas standing on the edge of the cliff with her. She cast her eyes about wildly, fearing what had chased her would return as he approached. She cried out, startled as Solas held her arms, helping her to her feet. "Lethalam," he called her name softly, waiting until her eyes met his. "You are safe. This is the Fade." He kept her eyes on his as she calmed down, her body not trembling so much. He felt the weariness bring her shoulders down as she teetered forward to land face first on his chest.

Solas cradled her gently as he set her down on the ground and stayed with her until she woke the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

'It has been several weeks since the Herald stepped out of the Fade. I admit, I had my reservations about her, but she is proving to be quite capable if still somewhat apprehensive of her magical abilities. Could having been in the Fade physically affected her memories so drastically? Could they have given her magical abilities where there were none before?

I do not like unknowns and she represents many such things. However, I admit, for the first time in a long while, I am hopeful. She is to return from Redcliff, later today, with mages in tow. From what Liliana has said, she liberated them from a Magester who had attempted to use the chaos to his own benefit. That such people would use others in these ways pains me, but it also bodes well for our cause that she was able to stop his plans.

Haven has been quiet with Cassandra gone for so long. I am almost afraid to think of what she will do when she gets back. Her gaze could wilt a Qunari.

The bells are ringing, the Herald must be near the outer gates. Good news would be welcome.'

* * *

><p>Solas set the quill back into the ink well, stretching his back as he rose from his chair. The entirety of Haven had gone out to meet the Herald at the gates, leaving only a hand full of people on the hill. Leaving his staff where it stood, he strode out to greet Lathalam as the horse she rode on cantered into the center of town. The others in her party, also on sturdy Ferelden horses brought their mounts to a stop near the stables.<p>

Lathalam, her mahogany hair having grown by several inches since her arrival, tried her best to dismount as gracefully as she could. Solas chuckled as her foot became stuck in the stirrup and her horse gave her a playful nudge with his muzzle at her trouble. She affectionately ruffled the beast's mane, laughing as it shook it's head. The outskirts had become a flurry of activity as dozens of carriages and flat carts were pulled in by no less than a hundred of the same horses that the Herald had rode in on.

Workers and servants descended upon the carts which were laden with supplies and materials no doubt acquired by Lethalam during her time in the Hinterlands. Several large crates of iron, drakestone and obsidian were delivered to the blacksmith who clapped his hands together, eager to work his particular magic on them. Hand pushed carts were stocked high with food and provisions and wheeled into the main area to be stocked in the larder for meals. Pelts, coats, clothing and blankets of all types were laid out for the people of Haven to take their choice of.

Curiosity overtook Solas and he drew closer, inspecting the wares that had been laid out for his perusal. In the piles, he found a rather warm looking over coat made of soft nug leather and lined with ram fur. Drawing his arms through the sleeves, he tried it on, noting with some satisfaction that it fit rather well, as did the belts that came with it.

"I thought you might like it." Lathalam stepped past the scurrying workers toward Solas who had cinched the belts of the over coat, claiming it as his own. "I thought it would help fend off the chill. Now we just need to get you some shoes." She pointed to his bare feet.

"I am quite comfortable walking barefoot, Herald," he chuckled. At first, he had found it odd that the Herald, an elf herself, found it so difficult to walk with no shoes. He had since accepted it as one of her many quirks.

"Then you would have hated it in the Hinterlands. It if wasn't cold, the road was full of rocks. And the stuff that wasn't rocks were piles of poop left by oh so considerate wildlife."

Solas couldn't help the full bellied laugh that bubbled up at her statement.

"Herald! Cassandra needs to see you in the chantry!" Lathalam sighed as the messenger shouted his message at her over the din of the crowd.

"Duty calls." She saluted him with two fingers tapping against her eyebrows, her wrist sharply flexing as she spun on her heels and trotted inside.

"Ooh, what's this?" Solas turned to see Varric picking through the pile of clothes and armors, holding up a set of leathers much deeper purple than the ones he was wearing. "If I didn't know any better," Varric cast a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder. "I'd say the Herald is trying to make up for behaving like a cornered puppy."

"Perhaps," Solas nodded, finding a pair of gloves in the pile that fit him suspiciously well. "Is it working?"

Varric held up the armor and noted with some pleasure that the leather was supple and strong with drakestone accents to shore up weak areas. "If she keeps this up, I'd say hell yes." He flung off his over coat and shirt, seeming to not notice that several serving girls had run into each other while trying to watch the spectacle that was Varric's chest. Solas did his best not to chuckle at their expense as Varric shouldered on the leather armor, testing his movement by reaching up as though he were about to take Bianca out to play.

"Nice."

* * *

><p>Later that night, several more people joined them around the fires. A Teventer mage, of all people was among them. A flamboyant young man by the name of Dorian. He and Varric seemed to hit it off from the start, drunkenly laughing and joking in record time. "Ah! Herald!" The mage was gesturing in an exaggerated manner, nearly toppling himself from his bench. "Come have a drink with us. I was just telling your friends here of our adventures in the future!"<p>

She chucked and sat down, taking the mug offered her by Varric. "I was just getting to the part where you electrocuted an entire room full of Vinatori guards! Marvelous, it was! Like a rain storm had made it it's personal mission to piss in their ale!"

Lathalam hesitated at his last statement, looking in to the mug and giving it a cursory sniff before tipping it up and emptying half the contents into her mouth. "Yea, well, it helps that I was scared out of my wits."

"Scared!?" Dorian shifted in his seat, eyeing her in a way that nearly had her in tears from laughter. "You twirled that staff like you've been killing demons all your life! You're a natural!"

Lathalam, rubbed the back of her neck, clearing her throat. She took the complement in stride, having decided that having to explain everything over and over again was not only pointless, it made the other's wary of her. "Thanks. Though I think Solas deserves a good bit of the credit. He's the one who helped train me in battle magic."

"The Herald is far too modest," Solas stated, though he had to jump back as Lathalam, startled by Solas' near silent approach toppled herself off of the bench and onto the ground, one leg sticking up as it leaned on the bench.

The entire group around the campfire burst out laughing as Solas reached down to help the Herald back to her feet. Instead of sitting back down, she put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a good pat on the back. "I've known cats quieter than you. One of these days, I'm going to tie little bells to your toes, that way you don't scare the fire out of me with your-," she stopped a moment, the ale suddenly going to her head. "your sneakiness."

Solas rolled his eyes as he sat Lathalam back down on the bench. "I assure you, Herald. Even with bells on my feet, I could remain silent if I wished."

"Challange. Fucking. Accepted." Lathalam held up her newly filled mug of ale, toasting Solas as she burst into giggles at the scowl that had developed on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

"Herald," Lathalam turned around, her eyes finding Mother Giselle. "A moment, if you please."

The Herald closed the door to the kitchens and walked toward the red robed cleric. "I see you made it here in one piece."

The Revered Mother chuckled, a smile pulling at her weathered lips. "That I have. I must thank you again, for coming when you did." Her eyes flickered to the flurry of activity still going on inside Haven's chantry. "And it seems you brought all the Hinterlands with you."

"Just what wasn't nailed down." Lathalam joked, she and the cleric sharing a chuckle. "Was there something you needed?"

"Only to convey my thanks. I have already given Sister Nightingale the names of those who would agree to a meeting with you. I believe she has already sent her birds forth to Val Royaux. Maker willing, your visit should prove most beneficial to the Inquisition."

"I hope so, Revered Mother. The last thing anyone wants is for them to get so caught up in who ever's going to sit in some throne that they won't off their butts and do something about the gigantic hole in the sky. I've seen what happens when no one gives a fuck and it ain't pretty."

Mother Giselle paid no mind to the sisters who gasped behind her and simply nodded her head. "Very true, Herald. I pray the clerics have as firm a grasp on the situation as you do."

* * *

><p>Lathalam craned her head up as they entered Val Royaux' fabled gilded gates. The entire city seemed as though it could have been some painters masterpiece put on display, larger than life. Her attention was brought back when a woman in a bright, multi-patterned dress gasped at their presence, clutching herself as she backed away as though to run.<p>

"I think our reputation precedes us." Lathalam frowned when several other travelers cast wary eyes on them, several keeping their blades close but not brave enough to actually draw them on such a heavily armed and armored group.

"No shit," Varric mumbled, shaking his head at the pearl clutchers pointing and whispering to each other.

"Let's just get this over with." Lathalam ran her hands through her hair as they entered the Bazaar. From what one of Leliana's scouts had told them, there was a large contingent of Templars waiting for them. As the crowd gathered and the cleric on the dais made her scene, pandering like a sycophant, she wondered if Giselle's offer of help was nothing but a trap.

The entire crowd seemed to be taken aback, however when one of the templars climbed the dais and laid out the cleric with a right hook.

"Huh," Lethelam could see Cassandra shaking her head at her, warning her not to say anything stupid, but she wasn't particularly impressed with bully tactics. "So, we can add 'assaulting defenseless women' to your list of transgressions."

"I am not impressed by your bravado, 'Herald of Andraste'." The leader of this group, a man whom Cassandra seemed to know as Lord Seeker Lucius, addressed the entire group with barely hidden contempt for all present. "I came to see this Inquisition for myself. Your group has shown me nothing, and you, less than nothing."

"You have shown me plenty, Lord Seeker," Lathalam narrowed her eyes as she watched the large group march out of Val Royaux. She turned on her heel and climbed the dais and reached down to help the cleric to her feet, looking at the older woman's face. "Nasty work, there. You should probably get that looked at soon before it swells up any more."

Cassandra helped the cleric to a bench, speaking to the woman at length while the crowd, no longer entertained with the possibility with seeing a public execution, dispersed. Lathalam shook her head. As Cassandra rejoined the group, she had a crestfallen look on her face. "The message never reached the named clerics. These -," she seemed to have trouble coming up with a name that best suited the three clerics still sitting under an apple tree. "priests acquired the missives and used them to try to turn the templars against us.

Lethelam growled under her breath. "Bunch of grasping, power hungry, prideful, cowards. They wouldn't close the Breach if they had the power to because it wouldn't be politically expedient for them."

"Not all in the Chantry think as they do." Cassandra shook her head, her eyes looking in the direction of where the templars had gone to.

"Not all, but enough would use it as such to make such an endeavor all but impossible," Solas spoke up, choosing now to break his silence.

"Let's just get back to Haven and figure out our next move," Lathalam groused as she started toward the exit. An arrow struck next to her foot, a note attached to the shaft of the projectile. "Oh, for fuck's sake. This day just won't end, will it?"

* * *

><p>Lathalam tossed the bag of breeches in the pile of clothing being sorted through to be distributed to the people calling Haven home. At least Sera had removed them from the guards before the group had filled them full of holes and burnt them to a crisp. She wanted nothing more than to find a quiet spot and just close her eyes. Sera was certainly friendly, but there was only so much chatting she could do before she needed to shut everyone out and just rest.<p>

She found herself outside Solas' hut again and sat on the half wall just outside, pulling a long, woolen over coat around her shoulders to fend off the chill. The sounds from the chantry were muffled by the huts and wind which gave her a few moments to just sit and process the events of the last few days. Not only had she gotten rid of some piss-ant of a noble for Sera, she had met Madame le Fer, or less formally known as Vivienne, a politically connected mage within Val Royaux who seemed rather eager to join their little rag-tag Inquisition.

The two hadn't spoken so much as a few words to each other after the party at her estate. Where Lathalan hated politics, Vivienne, seemed to have taken to it like a fish to water. Still, she was a likable enough sort, even if Lathalam found her fashion sense a tad on the gauche side. She sighed and turned her head, staring at the Breach looming in the distance.

It was only a matter of time now before that thing was closed. Maybe then she'd be able to remember how she had gotten from her museum all the way in the Anderfels to this little crack of land on the Ferelden - Orlais border.

"Herald!"

Lathalam caught herself with one leg as Cassandra, a mug of warm cider in her hand, motioned for her to follow. She trotted after her, the two falling into a companionable silence as they entered the chantry. Lathalam sighed as the door to the War Room closed; it was now or never.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's the matter, boss?"

Lathalam sighed, taking her eyes from the window to The Iron Bull, a massive Qunari sitting across from her at one of the tables in the tavern. "Just a little worried, is all."

She felt comfortable confessing this since most of the people normally in the tavern had already found their bedrolls, looking to get as much sleep as possible before their final assault on the Breach in the morning.

"About the Breach?"

She nodded, staring into the mug of ale in front of her. Her eyes shifted to the mark on her left hand, running a long finger over it before she shuddered and forced herself to take a long drink of the ale.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, Bull watching her closely out of the corner of his eye.

"So... I heard the others talking," he stopped, noticing that Lathalam had tensed her shoulders just a fraction. "It what they said true? That you stepped right out of the Fade."

Her shoulders seemed to relax, though her eyes remained focused on something far away. "That's what they say."

Bull emptied the rest of his ale into his mouth, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "So you don't remember?"

Lathalam shook her head, sighing in away that gave Bull the impression that she had made up her mind about something. "I'm going to bed." She got up from her seat and placed the half full mug on the bar. "See you in the morning."

With that, she exited the tavern, far too sober to be dragging her feet like she was. Bull waited a moment, then made to follow. He watched Lathalam slowly make her way behind the tavern, past the tent in front of the chantry. She paid no mind to the few people still awake around the campfire even as they raised their mugs to her. The chill had chased most inside, yet she didn't seem to feel it. Her hands ran through her shoulder length hair, blunt fingernails scratching her scalp hard.

Bull stayed in the shadows, as she stopped and cast her eyes to the Breach, glowing brightly over the mountains, painting the clouds an eerie emerald. She gave that same wary look to the mark on her hand, glowing the same emerald in her flesh. She stayed like this for several moments before closing her hand in a fist, squeezing so tightly her knuckles whitened before she set a brisk pace to her hut, shutting the door behind her quickly.

Bull remained where he was, watching the shadows through the window before he turned on his heel and left for his own tent.

* * *

><p>The march toward the summit was quiet and solemn, the only sound made by the large group was the crunching of their boots in the snow. Lathalam remained silent the entire time, her eyes never leaving the Breach as it drew closer. This would be the third time she had been to the ruined temple. The sense of unease would not leave as an old rhyme surfaced, unbidden in her mind;<p>

'Eager eyes up in the sky

Black as coal on wings they fly

Hungry eyes search the sand

From Pillars high to Cumberland

Til three times beat the heart of Pride

And in the silence, legions died'

Her eyes fell to the ground as the black glass crunched under her boots. She balled her fists to stop her hands from shaking, trying to school her face into a mask of calm. Solas was speaking to the mages now, bidding them to stay on the still intact walkway while the rest of them filed past to the lower portion where the bulk of the Fade energies were coalesced.

Cassandra had tried to tell the group to hurry, but even her steps were slowed. The air seemed thicker as they walked, almost as though the Breach itself was trying to keep them out. In the near silence, there was a certain reverence the temple still possessed. When they had reached the spot just below the Breach, Lathalam closed her eyes, leaning her head on her staff. She breathed deep as Solas reiterated his instructions to the mages, the thickness of the air forcing him to raise his voice to be heard.

She waited until she felt their will focused just beyond her. She focused on the mark on her hand, feeling it hiss to life as she began to move into the emerald mists in front of her, and raised her hand. Immediately, the power from her hand leaped to the Breach, nearly lifting her off of her feet. She realized that if she didn't stay focused, it could literally draw her into it and she didn't know if she'd be able to find her way out again.

Lathalam gritted her teeth, the power pouring out from the mark sending fresh tendrils of pain down her arm and into her chest. The smaller rifts felt nothing like this and she fought to keep a scream from her lips. Slowly, the veil folded over the Breach, the edges touching and stitching together like a suture, mending the tear one agonizing inch at a time.

She drew from the power the mages projected, gulping as though she were drowning. Sweat poured down her face and back, the effort making her arm shake as her feet were drug over the pulverized glass closer to the Breach. Cassandra made to grab her arm, but Solas put his hand out, shaking his head. Touching her now could make the entire endeavor backfire and literally destroy everything. Both were forced to watch as the Herald shook with effort as the Breach was slowly sealed shut.

Gasping for breath, the Herald squeezed her eyes shut and poured every ounce of her power through the mark. The effort ripped a scream from her as the Breach finely closed, the shock wave sending everyone flying backwards and the Herald nearly to her knees. Cassandra pushed past several soldiers and grabbed Lathalam's elbow, helping her to her feet.

"You did it!" The relief in her voice put a smile on the Herald's face as she caught her breath.

She put her hands on her knees and just focused on not passing out. "Good," was the only word she could muster as everyone burst into cheers.


	6. Chapter 6

Never had anything gone so wrong so fast in Lathalam's life.

One moment, she was sharing a mug of ale, flushed in the cheeks and high off of victory and accolades showered on her by her companions. The next moment, they were fighting for their lives against horrors beyond her imagination. People were screaming from all sides, burning in the fires or run through with blades. Warm blood and snow had mixed into a slurry that the hard ground refused to take in, black, acrid smoke rose into the night sky. Surely, this was just a nightmare?

Lathalam all but threw Adan into the chantry as Chancellor Roderick was brought in by the boy who had come to warn them of the Templars' attack. She was no surgeon, but she could tell from the amount of blood staining his white robes that he wasn't going to live much longer.

Her eyes stayed on the wooden doors, listening to the shouts from outside. Her hands balled into fists, the air around her warming as though a summer's breeze were coming from the back of the chantry.

"The Pilgrim's path..." Roderick, gasped, the pain momentarily dazing him. "You wouldn't know unless you had come during the summer months. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you."

Lathalam nodded, her jaw tensing. The others felt the heat gathering around her as her rage built like a storm. "Lead them to safety." Her words were barely above a whisper, but the others nodded.

"Someone will have to cover our escape." Cullen approached Lathalam from behind, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Go." She stayed as still as a statue. "Get them to safety." Cullen nodded as Cole took Roderick, helping him to stand as he fled with the others.

"We will come with you." Her companions all stepped forward. Lathalam took only a moment to choose.

"Solas, Bull, Varric; with me. The rest of you," She turned her head, looking back to where the rest of her companions stood, grim faces all. "Kill anything that tries to stop you."

They nodded, none commenting on what they saw as she turned her eyes on them.

As soon as the doors were open, Lathalam sprinted out, her long legs eating up the distance in great strides to the first of the trebuchets. A large group of Red Templars had cornered the operator as Lathalam reached up and called down a bolt of lightening to strike the templars where they stood. The operator shielded her eyes from the flash as everything living around her was roasted alive, their ashes blowing away in the wind.

She said nothing as the operator aimed her trebuchet, turning a wooden wheel that rotated the base of the weapon into position. Solas watched the Herald, keenly aware of the rage boiling just below the surface. She burned brightly as she cast spell after spell, fire and lightening raining down on those close enough for her to see. Steam seemed to be rising around her and as Solas watched, her boots melted the snow where she stepped.

One of the horrors sprinted through the veil of a smoke bomb, his daggers aimed directly at Lathalam's chest. She brought up her staff, blocking the blades before kicking her leg out and sending the horror sliding down the hill toward his comrades. She motioned as one would to roll a log down a hill and a wave of ice rose to freeze everything at the bottom of the hill solid.

Varric, sensing an opportunity, loaded an exploding bolt into Bianca and fired, blowing the frozen templars to pieces. Bull, shouting as though he were having the time of his life, had been herding the templars like sheep into Lathalam's line of sight, laughing as they were dispatched with which ever spell she chose to use.

The first trebuchet finely fired, sending a flaming boulder into the bulk of the invading force yet to breech the walls. "Bet they felt that one. Get to the other trebuchet. It isn't firing."

"Will do," Varric shouted over the noise of battle. "You get to the chantry and out the back."

The operator fired off a salute before sprinting toward the chantry doors. Lathalam took off as fast as she could, out the gates and along the frozen lake shore to the last trebuchet. The area around was swarming with templars. Lathalam gave nothing more than a look to Iron Bull before he charged head long into the bulk of the force, scattering them with a swing of Hayder's Razor, taking two of the templars out in one blow. The templars seemed to have been aiming the trebuchet toward the chantry before they were interrupted.

Lathalam got on the aiming wheel and started bringing it back around. The task was arduous and twice she had to hop off the wheel to assist her companions in taking out waves of templars, each more horrifying that the last. One of them looked as though it were carved from red lyrum and animated. One hand had been made into a flail and it shook the ground as Iron Bull lept out of the way of it.

Varric shot the thing multiple times in the face, however all it succeeded in doing was drawing it's attention to the dwarf. Iron Bull took advantage of the distraction to come around to the beast's rear. He got a running start and leaped, bringing his great sword down between it's head and shoulder, using his weight to force the blade through the lyrum, the beast convulsing once before toppling over.

The bulk of the force seemed to be occupied elsewhere as they recovered from the battle. "Get back to the chantry!" Lathalam hopped back onto the aiming wheel of the trebuchet, muscling it into position.

"Herald!"

"No arguing!" Lathalam's voice was strained with the effort, the trebuchet almost into position. "If you die here," Lathalam grunted as she turned the wheel again. "I will find your corpse," she took a deep breath. "and piss on it!"

The three simply nodded as they ran back the way they had come. Lathalam watched them go, the rage that had fueled her magic fading away as the weight of what she was doing hit her square in the chest. She tried not to let fear paralyze her, yet her hands still shook as she turned the wheel the rest of the way to get the trebuchet into firing position.

A roar from above startled her from her task. She was so focused on her task that she had completely forgotten about the dragon harassing Haven and had barely dove out of the way in time to avoid being hit by what ever the beast had breathed out of it's mouth. No sooner had she landed on the ground, she was thrown as fuel for the flaming boulders exploded. She landed on her back, hear head ringing, disoriented and running on the barest hint of adrenaline.

As she rose to her feet, she came face to face with nightmares on both sides of her. Lathalam fought not to panic. "World Breaker..." she whispered, staring into the face of the great black dragon that had cut off her escape.

* * *

><p>The survivors from Haven had found shelter in an alcove sheltered from the rest of the mountain by large over hangs of rock. Liliana had taken a pair of her spy glasses and pointed them toward Haven. The group, already exhausted form their escape fell to the snow. Some openly wept, others preyed that this was not the start of another blight.<p>

Liliana moved her head slightly, watching the tall figure that had stepped out of the flames. "A talking darkspawn?"

"May I?" Solas held out his hand toward the looking glass Liliana had in her hands. She nodded and handed them to the elder elf.

Solas put them to his face, blinking his eyes until they adjusted to the lenses. His eyes widened at the orb the tall darkspawn took from a satchel at his side. He watched in fascinated horror as the darkspawn used the orb to attempt to extract the anchor from the Herald's hand. From what he could see of her face, the process was excruciating. But the creature seemed to have trouble and so he brought all of his will to bear, the orb glowing with greater intensity.

The entire group looked toward Haven as a scream was ripped from the Herald, loud enough to cause the snow on the mountain sides to rumble.

"What the hell was that," Varric came to the ledge, looking back at Haven.

"We have to signal, now."

"With the Herald still down there, Solas? Are you sure?"

Solas nodded, watching as Varric loaded a signal flare into Bianca. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then pulled the trigger.

At first, it seemed that the signal had come too late. Solas watched as the darkspawn holding the orb tossed Lathalam into the trebuchet. He winced as he watched her crumple to the base. The creature spoke again, motioning for it's dragon to end Lathalam's life. Instead, she kicked the release lever on the trebuchet.

Solas gasped as he realized that the boulder would hit within meters of their position. "Brace yourselves!" Solas sprinted from the ledge, everyone following to get as far away as possible as the boulder exploded against the mountain side, unleashing an avalanche that roared past them.

The survivors cautiously approached the ledge when the roar had subsided, peering into the icy haze. Haven was no where to be found and neither was the dark spawn or his dragon.

Everyone seemed to have the same thought as they looked at each other, the color gone from their faces. We killed the Herald...


	7. Chapter 7

Cullen grunted as he got to his feet, brushing snow from his knees as he handed the hammer back to one of the workers. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he surveyed their progress. Many of the workers had labored through the night to erect a small city of tents on a sheltered ledge not far from where they had taken shelter from the avalanche. They had even brought wood with them for a fire, which was burning brightly in the middle of the camp. Many were huddled near it, leaning on each other for support as they mourned.

In the largest tent, the surgeon was tending to Rodrick as Mother Giselle held his hand, praying with him in the silence. Many had already turned in for the night, unable to stand any longer. Looking upon the scene, Cullen couldn't help the feeling of hopelessness that came over him.

Cassandra had taken to patrolling the perimeter of the camp, her eyes on the way they had come. Solas had set up wards around the camp and stared down at Haven's remains buried in snow and rock. Josephine hadn't sat still the entire time, her normally perfectly coifed hair frazzled as she paced with her writing board, the candle nearly spent. Liliana sat by herself on the edge of the tents, staring up at the night sky.

The others who often traveled with the Herald sat huddled around the fire, their faces forlorn.

Cullen was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of steel being brought out of it's scabbard. Cassandra had her eyes on something in the darkness. She squinted, stock still as she watched the wind blow little tufts of snow into the darkness. Cullen approached her left side, his hand on his own sword. It wasn't long before he heard a soft voice on the wind.

"Stupid... This is stupid..."

"Was that..." Cullen couldn't finish the thought. He could not bring himself to hope.

"Stupid dragon..."

The others were gathered at the entrance now, looking into the distance. Each craned their necks as they heard the faint sound of something slowly walking toward them in the snow.

"Can't feel my ass..."

"Boss!"

Iron Bull charged out as Lathalam stumbled out of the darkness, shivering, pale and slightly delirious.

"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra sheathed her blade as Bull scooped Lathalam into his arms and ran to the fire at the center of the camp. As they pulled a cot close to the fire , her eyes met Solas'.

"This is why I wear shoes..."

Cassandra actually laughed as she layered blankets on Lathalam. Solas smiled as her eyes finely closed, unaware of the flurry her miraculous reappearance had caused. "The answer is still no, Lathalam.

* * *

><p>Lathalam sighed and leaned her head on the wooden post of the tent. The way they had all looked at her, it broke her heart. They all expected her to be some kind of savior, but she had no idea how to save anything. She had just buried their home and she didn't know how many people under tons of snow and they thanked her for it?<p>

"A word."

Lathalam heaved herself off of the tent post, trudging through the snow to where Solas stood. He lit a brazier with a careless motion of his hand, turning his head when she drew near.

"Humans have not elevated one of our own to such heights in quite some time. That you were able to do such a thing should be a mark of pride, Lathalam."

She couldn't think to feel pride now. Just the thought of the emotion broke her just a little more.

"Though, unless we act, it will be all for naught. The orb that creature carried. It is elven."

She sighed. "I know."

"It is imperative - " Solas snapped his head back to her. "What?"

Lathalam heaved a foggy breath, her eyes locked with Solas' "It's a foci. One of them, anyway."

"How do you know this?" Solas took a step back, his hands gripping his staff. "Who told you?"

Lathalam let out a long sigh, too tired to be angry. "I told you. I worked in a museum for twenty years. One of the pieces in the collection I was in charge of was a foci much like the one Corypheus held."

"Corypheus? Is that what that creature called itself?"

Lathalam nodded, pulling her coat tighter against the cold. "He called himself a magister and talked about rebuilding the Tevinter Imperium, giving this world the god it deserved." The last few words, Lathalam lowered her voice almost comically, crooking her fingers as though putting quotation marks around them.

Solas blew a breath out of his nose, his eyes scanning the darkness. "So he must have been one of the first to sunder the veil to assault the Golden City."

Lathalam paused a moment, remembering his words. "'Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.'"

"Then you understand how this could be used against us, Lathalam. How it could be used to justify greater hatred of our kind."

She nodded, lowering her head. "Then we don't give them time to ask. Any ideas on what we should do?"

Solas closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he looked toward the camp, his eyes watching each person as they went about their business. "There is something, but it must come from your mouth. They will not trust if I suggest it."

Lathalam followed Solas to the map that had been laid out on one of the tables, following his fingers as they traced a path through the Frostbacks to an area that had no name and only a small fort symbol to mark it's existence. She looked up as Solas did, their eyes meeting. She smiled and nodded. For a moment, neither moved. Solas straightened first and turned toward a tent he had claimed. "Good night, Herald."

Lathalam watched him go, a small, rueful smile on her lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Lathalam stood at the map in the center of the camp, tired eyes retracing the path Solas' fingers had taken through the mountain pass.

"Herald."

She looked up, smiling as Cassandra approached her with two mugs, their contents steaming in the chill air.

"Ah," Lathalam sighed as she took one of the mugs, holding it in her hands as the warmth seeped into her skin. "A woman after my own heart."

The Seeker chuckled, taking a sip. "Have you found something," she gestured toward the map.

Lathalam put her finger on the spot she had memorized from the night before. Cassandra frowned, her eyes narrowing at the empty area on the map. The only symbol to denote anything was there was the symbol for a ruin. "I don't remember hearing anything being in the mountains, there."

"Something is there," Lathalam tapped the spot with her finger to emphasize the point. "A place with walls to protect the Inquisition as it grows."

Cassandra's eyes locked with Lathalam's. "Who told you this?"

She pursed her lips. "I came to the map this morning, and the path was here, laid out in front of me as though by a guiding hand." She traced the route through the mountain passes. She hated it that Solas asked her to lie, but she knew that he spoke the truth. They did not trust him. Not yet. The only reason they trusted her, was because of the mark.

"It will be a long journey."

"We will make it, Cassandra. If we leave tomorrow at the latest, we will make it there before winter truly sets in." Lathalam furrowed her brow. "We have a week at best before the first storms blow in." She bit her lip, unsure of where her words were coming from.

Cassandra looked toward the horizon, the morning light hazily blurred everything twenty yards on all sides. "I think you may be right, Herald." She stared at the map again, her fingers tracing the route. "If the attack had come a few days later..."

The thought that this was all ordained was not lost on Lathalam, and the way Cassandra's voice had been reduced to nearly a whisper crushed her. As the Seeker left to confer with the others, Lathalam's eyes fell on Solas, his back to her. She had wanted to stand by him just to spend a moment where she wasn't pressured to be something she wasn't. To be near something familiar.

Her shoulders sank as she kept her feet where they were. He was already wary of her and last night did not help matters in the least. Lathalam breathed deep, schooling her face, erasing all signs of doubt and put on the smiling mask she had worn for half her life. None of those around her need know anything was amiss. It would do no good to complain. Her life belonged to the Inquisition, now. Her only comfort being that this master was far more fair than her last.

* * *

><p>She stood to the side as Cullen and Cassandra directed the workers, packing up the entire city of tents in just a few hours. Solas had not spoken to her since the night of the attack. He stood away from the group, lost in thought.<p>

"Herald." She turned her head as Cassandra addressed her. "We are ready."

Lathalam nodded, her staff in her hand as she turned to the east. She hesitated a moment, looking back at all the people who followed her. She prayed to whoever was listening that she would not lead them astray.

Taking the first step, she listened as the rest followed her with out question or complaint. She could feel their eyes on her. They depended on her for their very survival, now, and that hurt more than anything Corypheus had done. She stayed well ahead of the group, not wanting any to see her so weak. She was grateful for the wind masking any sound she made.

By the third day, she was exhausted and chilled to the bone. She stopped, eyeing the horizon. "Are you alright, Herald."

Lathalam furrowed her brow. "Is it still morning?"

She turned her head and felt mildly surprised that Solas was actually speaking to her, his gaze on the group following. "No, Herald. We have been walking for nearly the entire day." She must have taken too long to respond, because Solas gave her a quizzical look.

"Oh..." She trailed off. "We should probably stop since the sun is setting."

"That would be wise." Solas tilted his head as he looked into her face, closely examining her as she turned around and signaled for them to make camp.

It didn't take the workers long to set up the tents and start a cooking fire on a rocky out cropping. Before long, the entire camp was filled with the scent of stewed mutton. Solas took his bowl and sat on the edge of the camp, looking out into the darkness.

"Mind if I join you?"

Solas turned his head, watching as Lathalam slowly walked up to him. She stopped as soon as they made eye contact, her smile going from hopeful to so self-depreciating that it hurt him to look at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trouble you." She turned to walk away toward the fire.

He watched her as she sat down with the large group, some hopping up to give her their seat. She tried in vain to find her own space, but they're insistence was too great. He watched as her shoulders sagged and she took a spot close to the fire, trying to seem happy. But looking closer, Solas saw that she was miserable. She had to accept another bowl of food and more blankets, because to refuse them would break these people's hearts.

Solas sighed as he ate quietly, keeping watch in the darkness beyond the fire. He could hear Cassandra trudging through the snow, armor clanking as she made her rounds and Cullen in the distance, supervising the handing out of blankets and bedrolls. Sera had started a snow ball fight with Iron Bull some where in the camp and several children laughed as they forgot their troubles for a moment to pile Iron Bull with snow balls, the great Qunari feigning defeat as he sank into the snow.

Even Lathalam laughed despite herself.

Solas realized that she hadn't laughed more than a few times since he had known her. The first time had been when talking with Iron Bull. He had walked by and caught just the tail end of the conversation, something about popping corks, but Lathalam had doubled over in laughter, tears in her eyes.

The second was around the fire in Haven. Her cheeks had been flush from the ale and her spirits high after her victory over Alexius, thwarting his plan to distort time itself to save his dying son.

This was only the third time he had heard her voice raised in laughter instead of twinged with fear, doubt and an aching need to reach out and connect with someone.

Solas pursed his lips. Every time she had reached out, she had reached for him. Whether it was to share in victory or quiet, companionable silence, she had reached for him. He looked back to the fire as he watched her attempt to extricate herself from the blankets while trying not to seem ungrateful. She folded them up as neatly as possible and sat them on the cart to be distributed through out the camp and headed toward her tent, holding her own coat close to her to ward off the cold.

Solas finished his food and handed the bowl back to one of the workers who was assigned to wash them. He spent a few minutes warming himself by the fire as the others retired for the night. The entire camp was quiet when he looked back at the Herald's tent. He made his way toward the tent, lifting a tent flap to see if she was still awake, needing to talk. Instead, he saw her asleep on the rocky ground, only her own coat keeping her warm.

"Cullen," the former templar turned as Solas addressed him, his face grim.

"Yes? Did you see anything out there?"

Solas shook his head, waving the warrior's concern away. "No. Did the Herald ask for a blanket or bedroll?"

Cullen tilted his head, the question an odd one. "No, in fact, she gave some back. She said that she had what she needed for the night." The look on Solas' said otherwise. "She isn't sleeping on anything, again, is she?"

"You mean she has been sleeping with nothing more than her own coat for warmth?"

Cullen shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I am sure she has her reasons, but this is getting ridiculous. Here," Cullen shoved a blanket at Solas. "go toss that on her. If she refuses, then tell her that I will nail it to the ground around her."

Solas took the blanket back to Lathalam's tent. The woman was still asleep, shivering even with the wool coat. Gently, Solas laid the blanket on her, careful not to wake the Herald. He stayed by her until she stopped shivering, her face pulling into a smile as she settled into a deep sleep. Against his better judgement, Solas reached out to pull a lock of hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She was nothing like the Dalish he had seen on his travels. Nothing like the city elves.

He furrowed his brow, looking at her features more closely. She almost reminded him of...

He shook his head as he got up from the ground, satisfied that she was no longer in danger of freezing. He told himself that it was impossible, that she couldn't possibly be what he was thinking. But then again, her physically being in the Fade was impossible as well. He exited the tent and took up his position on the edge of camp, eyes returning to the darkness. Perhaps, it would be a good idea to attempt to speak with her again, in the morning.


End file.
